Tuesday, March 27, 2007


When old man Winter from the north
Comes sweeping down from Arctic lands,
He show no favors as he grips
All nature with his icy hands.

All life is dead in frozen soil
That lies beneath earth's mantle white;
And sturdy oaks stand stripped and nude
Like specters in the starlit night.

The snow flakes whirl around our door,
As biting winds go rushing past,
And when we venture out our ears
And fingers tingle in the blast.

Though winter may act rough and rude,
And boisterous winds may howl and whine;
Yet there's sweet comfort in the thought
That Spring is not so far behind.

Then old man Winter will depart,
And Spring again will smile on earth
With budding trees and springing flowers,
And nature shall regain new birth.

January, 1947

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